


Private Sith Whore

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bruises, Come Eating, Come as Lube, Come play, Consent Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Cyborgs, Deepthroating, Desperation, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, F/M, Fingerfucking, Gags, Genital Piercing, Gentle Sex, Growling, Heavy BDSM, Implied Consent, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Knotting, Leashes, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Muzzle Kink, Muzzles, Nipple Piercings, Pheromones, Piercings, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Prostitution, Punishment, Purring, Robotic Penis, Robotics, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, Space Husbands, Strap-Ons, Submission, Switching, Teasing, The Force, Thigh Strap-Ons, Uncircumcised Penis, force mind tricks, primal kink, so much cum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: You're hired by a Senator to service one of his employees, but little do you know just how much you're about to enjoy this transaction...and just how much it will change the trajectory of your life.Yes the amount of tags is ridiculous but READ 'EM to avoid getting jumped with a no-no kink!!>First 2 chapters are pure porn with some plot, everything else (angst, romance) takes off in the third





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This spans through TPM, TCW, and Rebels.
> 
> And a little fun bit of info: if you're into dildos, Exotic Erotics used their Orc to make a custom Darth Maul toy for me by hand, markings and everything painstakingly painted into the mould before pouring. Definitely check them out, it's crazy what they can do, they're such artists!

You slide the mahogany garters up your freshly lasered legs and sigh. You only have one client today, by request of a Naboo Senator. Probably Palpatine. With a shudder, you check your reflection in the mirror, making sure your eyeshadow is smoldering enough and your lips are pouty enough. You don't find him attractive in the slightest, but money is money. Therefore, money means handsome. You slip into your black heels and start when you hear a clipped knock at the door, slight fear elevating your blood pressure. It can't be your landlord, you'd just paid (barely...) last week. You crack it open and almost swallow your tongue when you see two Republic Redrobes standing to attention on either side of a shrouded figure, two glowing magma eyes studying you from beneath the hood.

"Good evening, miss," the figure greets you politely with a smooth masculine voice, black hood nodding. The figure isn't terribly tall, but the aura emanating from (him?) is enough to intimidate anyone. He must be a force user...but he doesn't look like any Jedi you've ever seen. You quickly pull the door open and drop down to one knee, paying your respects. His apparent Republic class requires it, and the Redrobes would no doubt force you to kneel anyway if you stupidly chose not to.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," you reply, attempting to speak as formally as possible...but completely unsure if you're doing it right.  
A black gloved hand reaches out to beckon for yours and pull you up.

"Smart woman. I'll allow you to drop most of the formalities, as I'm sure we'll get to know one another very well before the night is out."

The man sounds amused as he says this, and you study the eyes as he turns away from from you, curious. Was this your client? Or was he your transportation? Arousal stirs in your cunt as you follow him, the Redrobes falling into pace behind you. Surely with eyes like that, the rest of him must be remarkably exotic...maybe his cock (if his species has cocks, anyway) glows in the dark too. 

He leads you to a sleek black ship perched on the apartment building's landing platform, standing next to the door as he waits for you to step in and take a seat. He sits across from you and the Redrobes slide into position, one behind each of you. 

You twitch nervously as the ship takes off, staring out the window to avoid making eye contact. Even that simple act feels intimate with him, as if you're peeled back on an examination table, innards exposed.

"You're afraid," he whispers softly, his voice emotionless, simply making an observation.

"Well...yes. You're very intimidating," you say quickly, hoping you haven't offended him.

He laughs smoothly, a small rumble of pleasure sliding into his voice, an electric thrill of arousal shooting up your spine at the new noise. He's silent for the majority of the ride, and in your brief glances you can vaguely make out cherry red patterned skin as the city lights flash under the hood. Were the patterns tattoos? Tribal markings? Or were they genetic? You imagine your tongue tracing them, and hold back the obvious question that dances on your tongue.

"What would you like to know?" he asks quietly, his voice now melting into a purr. You start, and remind yourself that of course he can sense your thoughts, he's a force user. 

"Your markings...are they everywhere?" you ask boldly, glancing pointedly down at his lap. He laughs, sounding truly amused this time. 

"A common question," he points out, but doesn't answer. Fair enough, you think. He's probably not allowed to move in on his employer's goods anyway. Senator caravans only got sloppy seconds unless they had the money for their own whores.

You eventually arrive at your destination: an expensive looking hotel just next to the Senate building. He leads you inside and up to the penthouse. You marvel at the twinkling cityscape set against the evening dusk, surprised that someone would rent something so nice to fuck an escort with little status. You guess he gets off lavishing his credits on poor women, and you have no problem being on the receiving end of that.  
The man unlocks the door and lets you in, following behind you as the Redrobes station themselves at the door. Excitement blooms in your gut as he walks over and drops the keys down onto the table. You must be here to service him, then.

He reaches up to slip off his cowl, and you gasp at the sight. His skin is indeed red, patterned together with black. The black has a slightly blue sheen to it, and the effect is incredible. Sharp horns jut up from his skull, adding exponentially to the demonic appearance and marking him as a Zabrak. A Dathomirian Zabrak, to be precise; a rarity. He shrugs at the robe, and it slides off to reveal a bare torso, the rest of his body hidden by loose fitting traditional trousers. You vaguely wonder how one of his species came to be of such high status on Coruscant; it's well known that the men of Dathomir are slaves to the planets' misandrist witches. You're about to ask him what he thinks of the current bill to intervene and emancipate the males when he turns to you. You notice the glint of titanium piercings in his nipples and left ear. You smirk, wondering if he's pierced down below as well. He advances, coming to a halt directly in front of you. You cringe away slightly as his raw power ebbs towards you, and he reaches out flick the sleeve of your dress with a still gloved hand.

"Take it off," he commands, walking over to the bed and beckoning you with two fingers. You quickly comply, walking up behind him to tentatively trace a red line that slashes across his back. His granite muscles twitch at the touch, and he whirls around to snatch your hand, twisting it cruelly.

"Don't touch me without permission, whore," he snarls, finally releasing you as you whimper. "I am your god tonight," he whispers, leaning in to bare his teeth, which match the brownish yellow color of his horns. His curled lips give him an animalistic appearance.

You nod quickly and apologize, scared but aroused at the same time. His attitude surprises you, since he'd been so polite picking you up. But everyone changes once they're in the bedroom, you supposed. He reaches down to the bed and you finally notice a leash and collar, which he rolls in his hands, watching you closely. 

His eyes graze over you icily, at your matching panties and bra, and you suddenly feel insecure. He pulls his gloves off and tosses them to the floor; then leans in and slips the collar around your throat. You arch your neck for him, and he growls. Goosebumps pebble your skin at the noise, and he leans in to nip at your throat, finally clenching your skin between his teeth and biting down hard enough to draw blood. Your professional profile says you're strictly BDSM, so you're unsurprised at the lack of preparation about his obvious biting and blood kinks.

You gasp and feel hot blood start to trickle down over the collar and between your breasts. Eyes dilated, he leans in to lap at it, strong hands ripping at your bra and panties, tearing them off as if they're made of paper. His growls are continual now, and it's clear that he's primal. You don't know much about Dathomirian mating, but from what you do know it's quite violent and animalistic. You're in for quite a night. You slide your hands up his torso as he licks, moaning at the steely muscle. He stands straight and snaps the leash tight, yanking you towards him as he snarls.

"I SAID, don't fucking touch me without permission," he hisses, "you'll be smacked next time."

"But you're too beautiful not to touch," you whisper, aching to be flush against him. He smirks, pulling you in close and finally allowing your flesh to meet his. His temperature runs higher than yours, and his heat makes sweat bead on your breasts and belly. His very obvious erection pushes up against your aching pussy, and you gasp excitedly.

He pulls you backwards towards the bed and sits gracefully, pulling you down to your knees. You stay still, waiting for his command. He reaches down to undo his belt and you whimper in anticipation. You wonder what his cock looks like. Is it black, or red? Is it patterned? Humanoid? If so, do Dathomirian tribes practice ritualistic circumcision like some humans, or does he still have his foreskin? Fuck, maybe he even has a tentacle penis or asexual genitalia. Your curiosity is almost unbearable.

He smirks at the look on your face as his cock bobs out. Dear gods, it's delicious. At least 7 inches, you gauge, and curved slightly to the right. It's mostly black, but a red diamond pattern similar to that on his nose extends from base to midshaft on the top and bottom. Just as you'd hoped, a Prince Albert piercing gleams in the ambient lighting, set off by his black skin. He's uncircumcised, the veiny, velvety looking foreskin already partially retracted due to the taut erection. He looks very humanoid except for ridges of cartilage that flare on the underside, and what looks like a deflated knot is nestled down close to his tight balls. He also has a patch of smooth horns at the base in lieu of pubic hair. You moan as you imagine what the ridges must feel like dragging against a G-spot. 

You glance up at him, and his glowing eyes glare down at you. He pulls you closer by the leash, and you shuffle forward eagerly. He brings a hand up behind your head and pulls you down. You close your lips tightly around the head, and he purrs loudly in response. Literally purring, like a humanoid lion. The sound is comforting and arousing at the same time. You note with surprise that his musk smells almost like some sort of smokey, exotic spice. It most definitely contains pheremones. You inhale deeply as you work him with your tongue, poking it under his foreskin when you can. He hisses appreciatively as you toy with the piercing, salty precum coating your tongue.

You ready yourself to deepthroat him, easing your mouth down as his abdominal muscles tighten, making the veins on his abdomen pop out dramatically. You finally slide your mouth all the way down and begin fucking him with your throat, gently rolling his balls. His breath catches and he holds your head by the temples, beginning to fuck up into your mouth. You moan around him, adding vibrations, and you swallow, stimulating him even further. As you service him, you wonder if he'll push you off to keep from cumming, or if he'll spill in your mouth. Or pull out and cum ON you.

Eventually he begins grunting deeply, growling softly. He pushes you back by your forehead until only his head is in your mouth. His growls escalate and his mouth falls open, panting and exposing his tongue. It's black, and you hope he decides to taste you with it later on.

He cums with a roar, hot liquid filling your mouth as he bucks. Your head rocks with his thrusts, milking him greedily. His thick knot swells under your hand, almost double his normal circumference. You squeeze it, massaging roughly, and he keens at the sensation. He tastes like he smells, and his cum is sweet, different from his precum. This man is literally built for sex, you think, dazed and out of your mind with arousal.

Some of it spills out of your mouth and you reach up to wipe it off. It's black, with a couple slippery swirls of clear semen that contain no sperm. He pulls himself out of your mouth, breaking your concentration. His cock is still rock hard, flexing gently in the cool air of the room. He pushes you back and stands, stepping out of his boots and pants as you shuffle backwards on your knees. He finally stands before you completely bare, and your heart thuds. He's by far the most attractive man you've ever had the pleasure of serving, and it honestly doesn't even feel like work. You'd fuck him even if you weren't getting paid.

He tugs your leash and you stand, licking your lips and smiling at him. You're pushed roughly towards the bed, and you climb onto the silk sheets on all fours, pushing your ass up towards him by arching your back. Growling, he stalks up onto the bed above you, skin sliding against yours. He pulls back and you feel his tongue nudge against your vulva, drawing a deep moan out of you. You're soaking wet from the blowjob, and he laps at the wetness, allowing you to wiggle yourself onto your back and hook your knees over his shoulders. He settles his chin into the curve of your pelvis, burying his face between your lips. His nose rubs against your clit as his tongue fucks you, and you arch off the bed, moaning.

"Wait..." you prompt, and he pauses, yellow eyes flicking upwards to meet yours. "...what's your name?" you whisper, desperate to use it during your coupling.  
He pulls away slightly, licking his lips. 

"As far as you're concerned, I am master, but I'll allow you to call me Maul." He ends the brief exchange by shoving his face back down into you, thick black tongue plunging into your entrance and occasionally sliding upwards to lave at and suck your swollen clit.  
You groan his name loudly, an orgasm building deep inside your abdomen. It blooms as he reaches up to slip two fingers into you while he sucks your clit, pumping you quickly with his well trimmed, masculine hand.

A scream rips out of you as you pulse around him, and Maul growls appreciatively into your cunt as your heels dig into his muscular back. One of his horns catches the skin on your inner thigh and cuts you shallowly, making you gasp in surprise. He stops sucking your labia with a pop and pulls your thigh to his mouth, sucking at the blood greedily, caressing your leg in the first gentle touch of the evening. 

You sag back into the massive bed, sighing in pleasure and satiation. He allows you to catch your breath, making sure that his horn didn't somehow nick an important artery. After a few minutes he tugs at your leash again, pushing your hip so that you roll over. You comply happily, nuzzling into one of the soft pillows and pushing your pussy out for him. He slides a knee down between your legs to part them, and you spread them wide for his lean legs and hips.

Maul humps up against you, his cock sliding over your folds as he teases. You whimper and bump your hips back into him, desperate for what you know will be a rough fuck. His strong hand clamps down on your left hip, other hand pushing himself down to your slick folds. You faintly worry about the lack of an ion light condom, but you feel a surge of something wash over you and the fear disappears. Was he using the force on you?

He slams in roughly, his thick cartilage ridges igniting the nerves of your G-spot. You groan and grab fistfuls of the silk sheets, sliding across them with the force of his initial thrust. He explodes into a mess of growls, rumbling deep in his chest. Hands gripping your hips in a bruising grip, he begins fucking into you mercilessly. Thankfully, his knot has gone down, and his thick girth is utter perfection. 

He bends down so that his sculpted belly rubs against your arched back with each thrust, and you scream as the ridges batter your pussy with stimulation. He purrs, reveling in the feeling of his sensitive balls smacking against your clit. Your eyes roll back as another orgasm builds, and you push back against his onslaught, screaming out his name in ecstasy. He joins you, choking out a rumbling groan as you feel him twitch, sliding back so his knot doesn't hurt you as it swells. Cum floods your pussy and you whimper at the incredibly sexy sensation, wiggling your hips against him. You feel his thick knot keeping you from sliding all the way down. He reaches down to massage it back into softness, barely resting before he slams back into you for more. His inky cum is all over the sheets below you, his spicy scent coating everything. 

Your primal dance continues for at least another 6 rounds, his cock remaining hard throughout the entire experience. During his last orgasm he leans in to bite the back of your neck hard, unable to help himself. You successfully take his knot the last two times and he keens in appreciation, rubbing small comforting circles into your hips as you strain, waiting for it to deflate. 

Eventually he slows, probably sensing your exhaustion and your pleasure turning to pain. He slides out and lays next to you on his back, panting and soaking the sheets with his sweat. You nuzzle up against him and he allows it, but he refuses to cuddle you.  
After you both rest, you walk to the shower and clean yourself off with the luxurious imported soaps. He joins you halfway through, preening as you clean him with worshiping hands. 

"I've rented the room out for the night," he says as he pulls his clothes back on, hot skin drying faster than yours. "You can stay until morning, and my guards will escort you home. I've left my employer's medical information with you. If you notice anything out of the ordinary or become pregnant, call the number."

You gape in appreciation as he hands you the credits for his session, and the extra amount for the room plus room service. You babble your thanks, marveling at he generosity (despite his icy personality). 

As he turns to leave, you reach out and touch his arm. His hand snaps back in preparation to hit you, and you cringe backwards; you'd forgotten his warning from earlier. But he doesn't strike, hand dropping to spare you. 

"What?" he asks bluntly.

"Do you think you'll hire me again sometime?" you ask, hope gleaming in your eyes. A faint smile twitches at his lips, and he nods once.

"Perhaps. If you perform well again, you may become my private whore."

With that, he leaves you to spend your night as you wish. You spend most of it wondering when you'll see the red devil again, eager anticipation settling deep in your chest at the alluring thought of being under his ownership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36  
> Kofi: http://ko-fi.com/honeygrunge
> 
> Willing to consider requests.  
> Thanks for reading! ^.^


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul visits you again at long last, and surprises you by showing a different side of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't detail any knotting in this chapter just in case there's people who'd like to read it but aren't into knotting. I may go through and change that later on tho, not sure!

You tap boredly at the fish tank as you touch up your hair, watching the chubby guppies frantically waddle their way through the water. You set your hairbrush down with a tink and sigh, checking your holoclock. It's 4:36 pm, and your next client should be arriving to pick you up at 5:00 o'clock sharp. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you finally stand and begin packing your 'toybox', making sure you don't forget a newly sanitized vibrator and rope, just in case. You recognize this client's name; he's just an average Joe who visits you about once a month. He's not the most polite client, and you're just ready for it to be over so that you can come home and go to bed.

You're sitting down to watch something on your aged television when your holopad dings, and hope leaps in your chest. Could it be the client canceling? But you don't recognize the number; it must be someone calling to book a first time session. You click the response button in curiosity and the blue life size hologram flickers to life. Your lips part in shocked surprise as you dumbly stare at it, a familiar cowled figure casting a blue glow into your living room.

"Good evening, I hope you've been well since we last met," his smooth voice greets, nodding the cowl in respect. You splutter, angry at yourself for not cleaning up your apartment more. But his eyes aren't wandering, the magma irises visible even through the hologram. They're fixed on you with a passionate intensity, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms and neck.

"Oh...I um, yes, I've been okay," you respond nervously, unable to keep a stupid smile from plastering itself across your face.

"Do you have any obligations this evening?" he asks, cocking his hooded head and crossing his robed arms. You bite your lip and pause, considering your options. You could say no and enjoy what you know will be a spectacular night, OR you could let a man who desperately needs a bath hump you over his kitchen counter.

You're pretty sure you know which one you're going to choose.

He interrupts your thoughts before you can answer, waving a hand in dismissal. 

"If you do, I would greatly appreciate it if you would cancel. My schedule is demanding and I don't know when I'll be back in this system," he prompts, and you nod eagerly.

"Of course, I'd be happy to," you beam, your tired and shitty mood quickly dissolving as you struggle not to bounce in excitement.

"Excellent, I'll be there in thirty minutes," he says, and the hologram blips to an end, allowing you to shriek out a tiny scream of joy. It had been nearly three months since your first session with him, and you'd been beginning to lose hope that he would ask for another. 

You cancel on Mr. Average Joe and ignore his angry rant, recommending one of your friends to him. You scramble to double check everything, packing a change of clothes just in case you don't come home before the night is out. 

You're already lost in filthy daydreams of what this session is going to be like.

 

He arrives right on time, a clipped knock ringing on your dilapidated door. You yank it open in excitement, purse and toy bag slung over your shoulders, staring up at the sanguine eyes in silent praise. You're happy to see that he's alone this time; Redrobes always make you extremely paranoid. 

He seems excited too, a barely audible purr resonating from beneath his cowl. But he contains it much better than you do; you're practically a vibrating ball of energy by now. He turns on his heel without greeting you, and you quickly hurry after him, fumbling to lock your door and keep up with his pace.

A different ship is waiting for you this time, and you assume it must be his own private craft. You hurry up into the doorway and he follows closely, reaching up to pull the strap of the toy bag off your shoulder. A loud purr sounds as he presses up against your back, leaning down to nibble sharply at your ear.

"Fuck..." you moan, and he pulls away teasingly, sweeping over to sit at the control panel and start the engine. You huff in annoyance, slumping down into a chair as he sets the coordinates and starts the autopilot. 

He slips his cowl off and slides out of the chair, boots thumping lightly as he walks over to you. He reaches out and grips your chin, rubbing soft circles into it. Tense desperation is etched into his face, and you're not faring much better. Only a tiny handful of your clients care whether or not you cum, and you're usually too tired to masturbate when you finally get home and make yourself a fast dinner before passing out.

He releases you and growls, sliding down next to you and dropping his lips to your neck; familiar onyx tongue tracing patterns into your skin. You shiver from the intimate stimulation and lean into him, pulling his strong hand over to cover your crotch. He's being more intimate than before, which seems out of character. But then again, you'd only met him once, and who knows what could've changed in the past couple months?

He gently works your mound with skilled fingers, wiggling and rubbing until you start to moan, lolling your head back to nuzzle his throat, reveling in his spicy musk.

A disruptive, sharp beep jolts you out of the moment and he snaps up to begin manual landing. The ride hadn't been very long, and you wonder where he's brought you this time. A smaller, more humble hotel? His own place? Does he even live here?

You peak out the window and gape as you see the Senate building. You'd never really been able to accurately gauge the size of it from afar, and it's much more massive than you expected.

"Are you hungry?" 

His question jolts you out of your concentration, and you shrug.

"A little, but I don't like having a full stomach before sex," you return, smiling. "I like to leave room for the cream," you joke, and a smile teases the edges of his lips. 

You unboard and follow him into the building, insecurity smacking you in the face as you notice everyone's glamorous and trendy clothing. You scurry closer to him, slamming into his back as he suddenly comes to a full stop. He grunts and glances back at you, looking irritated. 

"Sorry," you squeak, and he shakes his head as you slip down a nondescript corridor. A plain black door waits at the end of the hall, and he waves his hand to click the lock. 

He lets you in first and waves his hand again to lock the door back. You study the dark room, taking in the bare, balanced decor. It's large and loungey, despite the minimalist style, and you could easily see him passing his off time here. You smile as you notice his smell; it must rub off on his belongings. Like marking territory, you think with a thrill.

You gasp as he finally slams into you, shoving you down hard on a low couch. He descends on you, locking your legs together with his knees and leaning in to bite your throat again, in the same place as last time. Wincing, you realize it's probably going to scar now, but you ALSO realize with a little surge of arousal that a scar is probably what he wants. A visible, territorial claim that you can't easily get rid of. His horns poke at your chin as he works your skin open with his teeth, blood dripping down to stain the lush couch. You reach up to cradle his smooth occipital lobe as he begins to suck, moaning and sliding up to rub the skin at the base of his rear most horn. 

A sudden gasp rips out of him and he releases the wound with a pop, a low whine rising in the back of his throat as you continue rubbing. His eyelids slide closed and you're rewarded with a rich purr, tiny mewls joining the noise. You gape at him. He went from dangerous predator to whimpering loth kitten in mere seconds. His eyes open and widen at your surprised expression. Quickly pulling away, he thrusts your hand away with a slight look of embarrassment. 

"Why don't you want to relax?" you urge, hoping the question doesn't make him angry.  
You earn a grunt in return and he grabs your hand, yanking you up off the couch and pulling you to his bedroom. It's a little cozier than the living room, and his scent is much stronger here. You bite your lip as your pussy slickens, inhaling deeply as he finally slips his robe off. 

"Undress," he snaps, and you obey, watching him as he walks over to a strictly organized closet. He returns with a leash, just like last time, only this time it's attached to a muzzle gag. It looks like it covers about half the face; the rich black leather pliable to mold snugly against the skin.

You walk up to him and smile, waiting for him to put it onto you. But he pauses, staring at you with an unreadable expression. He shakes his head slightly and you frown in confusion, only understanding when he pushes it into your hands.

HE wanted to be gagged.

You're a bit thrown off by the exchange, but your arousal surges forward even more than before. He pulls his gloves off and turns, allowing you to slide it up over his chin and secure it behind the sensual curve of his skull. He moans as it draws tight, reaching down to work himself through his pants. You experimentally tug the leash and he growls in defiance, yanking you forward with it and shoving you onto the bed. You snatch the leash back up and snap it hard, yanking him down on top of you with a grunt of concentration. He hisses and suddenly smacks you, your brows shooting up in surprise. He's a switch, but he's not an easy sub. 

You bring your foot up to knock firmly against his sensitive balls, warning him with the intimidating gesture. He jerks, slinking up onto the bed and whining as you lean in to bite down hard on his shoulder, drawing his blood for the first time. It's red just like yours, but much darker and thicker. He also bleeds more profusely due to his twin hearts. You lick at it appreciatively, drawing a deep purr from him.  
You shove him over onto his back and work open his belt buckle, making him huff against the muzzle in frustration and desperation. You open it and his erection pops out, shiny piercing completely drenched in precum. You use your finger to tease it, wiggling it back and forth as he spreads his legs, grasping at the sheets. He whines, gnawing at the gag that rests behind the muzzle, glaring down at you as his temples flex with the chewing. Smirking, you pull your toy bag up and look through it, selecting a small fingertip vibrator. He watches you closely, reaching down to rub his blunt head against his palm. You smack his arm and flick his penis in punishment, ripping a thunderous growl out of him. Precum slides down his length as you flick him again, harder this time. He grunts, flexing his abdominal muscles at the insistent pain. You pull his foreskin forward and pinch it sharply, this time earning a tiny pained whine. His eyes flick down to you, blown wide with arousal.

You wiggle the vibrator down onto your finger and switch it on, settling it down underneath his tight balls, pushing it deep into his perineum. He jolts and sobs out a broken moan, bucking down against the toy. You use your palm to cradle his balls, leaning down to suck his right testicle into your mouth. You gently roll it, moaning as his chest heaves in ecstasy. He slides his arm up to cover his eyes as he bleats out wanton moans behind the gag.

After linging for a few minutes, you slide the vibrator up his shaft, moving it up and down the slick trail of precum. He tenses and you quickly move it up to his frenulum, massaging the nubbly toy into his cock as he gasps in a deep breath.

"Mmmnmnnnnnnnnnn," he muffles out as his thick inky cum spurts into the air, and you smirk at how high it goes. You wouldn't be surprised if he discovered some on his ceiling tomorrow. The copious cum arcs back down onto his muscular thighs and abdomen as he writhes, horns shredding his pillow as he thrashes with abandon. You croon and reach forward to rub it across his body, licking it up as you play.

He growls and jolts up into a sitting position, hand snapping out to grab your throat and squeeze roughly. You gag and panic a bit, sliding backwards as he slips up off the bed. He lets you go and you gasp, rubbing your bruised skin as he returns with...a dildo?

"What's that for?" you ask, and he waves a hand at you in irritation. You quiet, now used to his gruff personality.

He sits on the edge of the bed and slides a harness around his thick thigh, finally settling the girthy, shimmery dildo into its harness. He turns to you and beckons, holding his arm open. Pussy clenching in excitement, you slip up onto his leg and straddle it, nudging the tip of the dildo into your folds. You're stopped by a warm hand, and he reaches down to wipe up some cum off of his thigh and rub it over the tip. You settle back down and the slick toy fills you, igniting your nerves. Your hips immediately start to roll, desperate and needy for pleasure. He allows it, wrapping a hot arm around you and pulling up close to his chest as he starts to bounce his leg with you. 

"Uhhuuuu ohhhh shiiiiiiitttt," you breath, half incoherent as the much needed fuck finally begins.  
He growls behind the mask, lowering his forehead to yours and staring intently into your hazey eyes as you fuck yourself on his leg. You start when you feel something push at your clitoris and cervix at the same time, blinking up at him in confusion. A deep rumbling chuckle rolls out from behind the muzzle as the feeling intensifies. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced: like a deep pressure settling directly onto your nerves, INSIDE your tissue. You moan and throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as he rams his leg up into you, reaching down to jerk himself off as he watches you come undone under his force ministrations. You realize this has all been a show for him; he really does get off on the fact that he can destroy you with pleasure alone.

You cum hard, grinding down onto the dildo and losing control of your bladder, pissing on his leg. It isn't much, but he definitely notices. He barks out a laugh and clamps a rough hand down on your ass as your northern cheeks burn with embarrassment.  
He pulls your hands up to undo his muzzle and he sighs as it falls, saliva dripping down his chin as it falls to the floor. He flexes his jaw and snaps his teeth closed, baring them and growling at you.  
The night has only just begun. 

He picks you up and slams you down into the mattress, reaching into your bag to pull out the rope. You have no clue how he knew it was in there, and your distracted brain honestly just doesn't care right now. He ties your wrists together behind your back and grinds your face down into the destroyed pillow, lining his cock up with your slit and slamming in brutally. He fucks you mercilessly until you cum around him at least three times, smacking and scratching and biting you, blood seeping from several areas by the end of it. He finally cums again, screaming out a guttural growl and sliding out of you. 

You flop forward into the pillow, falling sideways as your jelly muscles refuse to hold you up. He purrs at your little whines, undoing the ropes to pull you against him and nuzzle you, cuddling up against you and soothing the worst cuts. You stare up at him in amazement. Last time he'd shoved you away every time you'd attempted to cuddle up to him. You love this new development.

He cuddles you for a while, licking and nuzzling until you reach down to pump his rigid erection. He rolls on top of you and slides back in, gentle this time. The movements are tender and fluid, the first non-rough fuck you two have had. You rock for close to 30 minutes before you finally have a deep orgasm, wiggling beneath him happily as the relaxed peak floods your brain with endorphins again. He cums shortly afterwards, working the bite on your throat as he bucks into you and purrs loudly.

He rolls back off of you and hands you the holovision remote, letting you watch whatever you want as he dozes lightly next to you. You fit in two episodes of your favorite show before he sits up, pulling you to the shower and washing you off with his warm hands. You return the gesture, but when you push a finger up into his soft foreskin to gently wash him he starts to purr again, initiating a shower fuck. He hikes you up onto his hips, letting you wrap your legs around his toned waist as he bounces you down onto his cock. You nuzzle his neck the entire time, licking him and losing yourself in his rich scent. 

When you come back out of the shower the room has been cleaned, and a new pillow has replaced the shredded one. You laugh lowly as you wonder how many pillows he goes through per week.

"You've probably guessed that you're staying here tonight," he says as he orders the both of you food. His coldness has returned, but you respect the fact that he puts up his wall. You don't know what he does for a living, but whatever it is must require emotional detachment. You're just thankful that he seems to have a soft spot for you.

"Yeah, I figured you weren't gonna slip your claws out of me until tomorrow morning," you tease, slipping over to massage his tight shoulders. He allows the intimate contact, turning his head.

"After experiencing your services once more, I do think I would like to hire you as my...personal assistant," he purrs, and you squeak in elation as he finishes the order.

"Holy fuck," you whisper, trembling and sinking down onto the bed. No more stress over paying bills. No more disgusting clients. You were going to be taken care of for the first time in your adult life. No longer alone in the world.

"I'll contact your landlord tomorrow and have all your things brought here. You'll be staying here in this apartment while I travel; everything will be taken care of. But you will NOT go anywhere without the Imperial Guards. Do you understand?" he warns, eyes glinting. You nod eagerly. Anything for this life of comfort and pleasure. 

"And if you become pregnant at any point, you WILL submit to an abortion," he adds, and you nod again. You expected no less from a man like him; family didn't seem to be his forte. 

The food arrives, and your mood is still soaring as you mow through it. He dallies around with you a couple more times before bed, and you eventually collapse into it, nuzzling into the black sheets that smell so strongly of him. Sleep pulls you into its soothing embrace as you drift off to the gentle sound of his purrs.

You awake in the morning to gentle rustling, eyes blinking open as you stare groggily up at the ceiling. It all slowly comes back to you as a hot, smooth hand slides up your belly to cup your breast. You smile and look at him, excitement again thudding in your chest as he lazily blinks his glowing eyes.

You were a private whore now. 

HIS private whore.

And that makes all the difference.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been months since Maul hired you. He gives you your first taste of his professional life by bringing you on an uneventful mission.
> 
> Uneventful...or so you think.
> 
> !!!TW!!! : A BRIEF SCENE OF FORCED DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know where to take this from where I left it and thought that adding a plotline was necessary to keep it alive. Plus, someone suggested more character development, and I thought that was a fun idea although I'm not the best at it! Also included mating cycles because I love that kinda stuff ^_^

Maul pulls you into consciousness by worrying at your earlobe with a smooth finger. His breath is warm against your skin; his lips comforting against your nape. You stretch, and he rolls with you, molding to your back and greeting you with a low purr.

"Morning," you whisper, sliding a tingling hand around to rub a warm hip. Two familiar smoldering eyes flicker in your peripheral vision as the fingers slide away and trace the length of your jaw.

"Good morning," is his simple response.

Having memorized his morning routine - and become a crucial part of it - you obediently wiggle into position and allow his precum drenched morning wood to slip between your folds. You moan but snuggle back into your pillow, planning to fall back into your slumber when he finishes.

"Force," he breathes, falling silent and kicking up a deep soothing purr.

In the three months since he's employed you, you've been shocked to learn that cuddling is one of his favorite activities. Especially cuddling that allows cock warming. He requires it every morning, as if participating in some religious dawn ceremony. 

And you've also noticed that he craves it more frequently whenever his employer shows up.

Just last night you'd had dinner with the Senator, and Maul had been on edge for hours after the fact. Quite frankly, you're surprised that he'd eventually crawled into bed with you at some point during the night. Your last sleep-hazed glance had revealed him to be studying a simple black bound book crested with a crimson insignia. Concentration had morphed him into a living granite statue, only moving to flip the thin pages and periodically blink. He's a student of some sort, but that's all you've been able to gather. Any further questions only got you annoyed growls and sharp smacks to the ass.

You may or may not have asked a few too many questions just to earn yourself some self indulgent bites....

You're jolted out of your thoughts when Maul whimpers, finally anchoring himself and beginning to gyrate his lean hips. His warm hand slips down to rub at your clit, and you smile into the pillow as he bleats out low moans of desperation. He's in the middle of a mating cycle right now, but Palpatine had required the removal of his secondary reproductive glands for the sake of a career. An odd and unfair request in your opinion, but even the developed areas of the Republic are dog eat dog. Removing glands is much less than many have had to do for a high paying job.

He may not be a raging hormonal monster every month, but he's still much more aroused and affectionate than usual. You whisper quiet dirty talk to him and slip a hand down to trace the leftover scars beneath his navel, frowning at the familiar edges. No matter what he insists, you know these aren't surgical. 

No scalpel or medical laser creates such jagged and burnt marks.

He yips and bites down on your shoulder, hell bent on getting and holding every last drop of your attention. Your back arches as you crane your neck to meet his soft lips in a warm kiss, reveling in that familiar spice as his breath washes over your chin. His hips stutter and he bites your lip through the first orgasm; lashless eyelids fluttering while his twin hearts skip beats against your back.

A small twinge shifts uncomfortably in your chest as you realize that you'll never get enough of this. His warmth, his smell, his protection. You honestly don't know what you'd do if you provoked him to suddenly "fire" you...

And therefore, you must never risk his anger.

His hips pause as he senses your trepidation through the force, nuzzling your back and finally speaking.

"Why are you afraid?" he whispers.

Your lips part in preparation for a lie, but before you can get anything out his holopad blips with a distinct urgency. 

Work is calling.

He's up and out of you in an instant, whining in annoyance and kicking off the sheets. The loss of his warmth makes you shiver and snuggle deeper into the spacey bed, watching him as he sweeps up and shrugs on a simple black robe. He slips past the traditional doors and leaves you alone with your thoughts and well-messed pussy.

As soon as the doors thunk closed you're sitting up, flinging off the sheets and scurrying over to the door. You press a curious ear to the smooth wood and furrow your brow in concentration, trying your best not to make any noises. The ringing ends and Maul's voice echoes back to you, reverently reciting that confusing word.

"Master."

Why is he required to call this person master, of all things? Is this a religious apprenticeship, similar to ancient Catholicism and its popes? The figure certainly doesn't sound or look like Palpatine. 

You realize with a smirk that you have trouble thinking of Maul in a traditional religious setting, having seen him displayed in so many filthy scenarios...but the grating voice yanks you out of your sexual daydreams and you refocus, blinking down at the ground as you listen.

"Maul. Your whore is eavesdropping. You must control her better. Beat her, it is the best way."

Your heart leaps up in your throat and you yank your head away, gaping at the door as Maul's footsteps quickly move towards you. How had he known?? Was he a force user too?

"Yes, master."

Suddenly, you're bowled over by the door when Maul comes slamming through. He glares down at you, mortal fear twisting a vice around your chest as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. A tall hooded hologram stands behind him as he smacks you, hard enough to cut the inside of your cheek on your teeth. He hits you four times, growling and dragging you back over to the bed by your arm while you scream.

"You NEVER listen to my conversations. EVER. I am not your husband, my work is none of your business," he snarls, crossing his arms and studying you. The blue light of the hologram illuminates him from behind and sets off his cherry markings, giving him a slightly ethereal look that only adds to your fear. Silence falls as you nod, and a low cackle sounds from the hologram. 

"You're too soft with her," the mysterious voice laughs mockingly. "Discipline her more or I will devise a worthy punishment for her myself."

"Yes, master."

Maul looks apologetic, pausing to stare at you before sweeping away and pulling the door closed. You hear nothing in the next few minutes, ears crowded by the sounds of your own crying. He's never hit you before...he's been cold and mean, but never violent. Your cheek throbs with your swollen eyes and a headache begins to ache deep in your skull, so you lie back down and order yourself some breakfast despite your lack of an appetite. 

Whoever that "master" is, you despise him with every fiber of your being.

Maul slips softly through the door ten minutes after your breakfast has arrived, not meeting your eyes but obviously still in need of release. The robe is tented, and you can't help but stare at his erection as he lets the clothing slip to the floor and walks back to the bed. You obediently put down your food and ready yourself for cuddling, but he pulls at your hip to roll you over onto your back.

"You must never do that again. My master is very...strict. What we do is very confidential. You're endangering yourself by listening in. We have many enemies," he whispers. 

"I'm sorry, I was stupid," you mumble, still scared of him but understanding that his hand had been forced. 

Forced...but he could have refused to hit you.

Unless this was a much more serious situation than you'd originally assumed. Perhaps Maul was a slave of some sort? Paying off a life debt to a generational employer?

Your owner purrs while you ponder and releases more musk, rubbing up against you and lowering himself down into the old fashioned missionary position. 

"I....didn't want to hit you, please understand that," he says, caressing your wounded cheek as you wrap your legs around him.

You nod into his shoulder and he restarts your morning ritual, reaching up to grab the headboard as he slams his hips into you. He's more desperate now, panting and groaning in response to your moans. His knot always stays swollen during sex if he's in his cycle, and you revel in the tight stretch every time it pops in and back out. You've become accustomed to its girth; after all, you do take it nearly every day.

"Maul!!" you gasp as he gives you your first orgasm, following you into his second with a loud snarling moan. He bucks hard, reaching down to cup his balls as he does. You blink in confusion when he sags and pulls away instead of continuing, his normally still rigid cock going soft. 

"I'm leaving for an assignment," he says, rolling out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom. "Get your things. Seeing as I'm in my cycle right now, you must accompany me. But you will do EVERYTHING I tell you and stay exactly where I put you, is that clear?"

"Of course," you answer, excitement and fear bubbling together in your chest. "Where...where are we going?"

"Tattooine. It is very dangerous and you could easily be swept into captivity by a trafficker, this isn't a field trip," he points out as you shower with him.

He pushes your hand away when you try to fondle him, his jaw tense with solid focus. So instead you nuzzle up against him, humming when he brushes his lips over your bruising cheek. But then he escapes back into his own head, practically ignoring you until you've dried off and started packing. He packs nothing, already having a fully equipped room on his ship.

He beckons you after him with a wave of his gloved hand, carrying a bag for you as you hurry behind him. Despite his warnings and your less than exciting destination, you can't help but bounce with excitement at the thought of a trip off planet. You've always been too strapped for cash to consider intergalactic travel - not having your own ship - although you've done a little bit of traveling with your parents.

Maul settles you into the singular quarters and heads to the bridge to set the controls, leaving you to your own devices. You opt to do a bit of reading before going back to sleep, cuddling his rough horn-proof pillow against you in place of him. 

You sleep peacefully, unawares of the fact that this trip will be your first and last together.

Well, the last for a long while, that is.

 

 

 

Maul wakes you with a rough shake, already dressed in his cowl. Every inch of his body is covered, just like the first time you'd met him. A lightsaber hangs at his hip, glinting in the fluorescent floor lights.

"I'm leaving to search for someone. The ship will be cloaked and locked, so you will be safe." 

His tone is clipped and professional now, but you sit up anyway. He blinks at you in confusion until you haul yourself up to plant a kiss on his lips, a gloved hand sliding up to push you away by the throat before you can attempt to deepen it. His gaze softens for a moment but quickly switches back to his usual emotionless mask.

"You're becoming too attached," he chides. 

"And what's the harm in that?" you whisper defensively. 

"More harm than you could possibly imagine," he sighs, turning on his heel and pausing in the doorway.

"In the event that I do not return in three days time...I've left instructions for getting back. The ship can handle itself. All financial matters would be handled by my employer."

And just like that, he's gone. 

Your heart skips at his harrowing implications, and you spend the rest of the day in somber silence. Eventually you get frustrated with mulling over his words and try to entertain yourself with holovision. Buy you're restless, chewing your nails and biting the cuticles.

He'd been right about this trip...

 

 

 

He returns early, before the last sun has set. You hurry out to meet him in the walkway, glancing behind him as he sweeps up the ramp. Your eyes widen when you see the speeder; you can't help but walk out to get a better look.

"Get back in here!" he growls in annoyance, irritated and overheated from his fruitless day of searching.

"I didn't know you were a biker boy," you tease lightheartedly.

He cocks a brow ridge and crosses his arms at your playful tone, allowing you to go to the vehicle and struggle to mount it.

"Oh please, everyone gets around with speeders."

"Yeah but not FANCY shit like this!" you insist, a filthy smirk spreading across your face when an idea strikes you. "Ever fucked a girl on it?"

He chuckles, moving closer to watch you. His robes are tenting again; it's been too long since the orgasms this morning and he's most definitely in need of release. He nudges you forward and slips up into the seat, chuckling when you uncomfortably squish against the handlebars. 

"Well, no, but there's a first for everything," he purrs, roughly shoving your head down and forcing you to straddle the steering mount. 

It's slightly uncomfortable, but it also provides adequate stimulation against your labia. So you happily oblige, digging through his robes until your fingers slide across heated skin, brushing up a sweaty thigh to meet his aching organ. He's drenched, as always during his heat. He definitely understands the struggles of the human menses, having to stop and clean himself up so much.

"Not exactly the freshest," he says with a smirk, but the frequent precum has fought potential smegma by flushing anything and everything out of the way.

So without further ado, you willingly accept him into your mouth, teasing the familiar piercing and wiggling the tip of your tongue against the tip of his slit. His cowl slides back to reveal his crowned head and slitted eyes. He eggs you on with a tiny snarl and you push down to deepthroat him, wrapping your arms around his hips while you rock.

He impatiently thrusts and abruptly pulls you up, twisting you around until you're sitting in his lap. Strong hands rip at your pants and panties as you moan in anticipation. They slide up your thighs and greedily squeeze at your hips. Pinching, clawing, and yanking you backwards. You're lifted up and dropped down onto him, gasping in slight pain when he slams in.

"Y/N," he grits out, pushing you forward against the steering and beginning the merciless fucking.

You huff with surprise when he says your name; until now it's always been kept impersonal. Slut, whore, and bitch were your owner given names. But apparently your little conversation earlier had opened up a new topic to consider...

He reaches around to cup your breasts and rip at the rest of your clothes, riddling you with scratches and bruises in his haste. Just two minutes in he's hitting his first orgasm, nearly sobbing as he bucks. But unlike this morning, he keeps going, nails digging into the soft skin of your abdomen as you let him knot you. He may not want children, or so he says, but his heats definitely put him in a breeding mindset. You're kept still for a good five minutes while he bites at your nape and moans, rocking the knot up into you and keeping his cum trapped inside.

"You're the best little whore I've ever had," he breathes when he starts to move again.

Your emotions have been a little too upset today to warrant a fast orgasm, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the situation. You gasp when he reaches around to rub your clit, shrugging out of his robe in the process. Your nipples are pinched as well; he's determined to get you off at least once. And his efforts pay off, sending you into a screaming orgasm as he gets his fifth. His cries mingle with yours; hopefully not attracting any nearby Raiders or nomads.

He slows after you cum, pulling you back to watch the bloody sunset set off mirages in the sandy wasteland. It's no tropical getaway, but it's still different and beautiful. You stay like this for what feels like an hour until night finally sets. A simple dinner and evening shower is shared between the both of you, after which Maul promptly slides into bed while you do a bit of online shopping. You glance over at his chest as it rises and falls, smiling gently when his arm twitches through his dreams.

He'd said it would be dangerous to have feelings for him. But at this point, that seems better than a life without having him around. Maybe it's a sort of Stockholm Syndrome. 

But whatever it is, it's better than what you'd had before.

 

 

 

You stay on the sandy planet for about four more days, and Maul gets increasingly more agitated and angry as time goes on. You're at the edge of the docking ramp playing around with a native lizard when he arrives in the middle of the day, face set with a grim and deadly determination. 

"Get in the ship. We're going to Naboo."

"Naboo??" you gawk, wincing when he gives you a sharp glare.

"Not for the fucking scenery, but yes, Naboo."

He drags you in by the sleeve and takes off as soon as possible, hunching over the controls and templing his fingers as you both watch the stars fly by.

His mood is rubbing off on you, and you gnaw the insides of your cheeks while you stare at his motionless back. This feels dangerous. You can feel death of some sort looming in the distance. You may not be force sensitive, but your constant physical and mental closeness to Maul has brought about some sort of tenuous link through which you can sense deep disturbances.

You tentatively sit up and walk over to him, sliding your hands up his shoulders to massage some tension out of him. He allows it, staring blankly out into space until you leave to lay down.

You send a quiet prayer out into the universe that this hunt ends worse for the other side than it does for Maul.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really angsty, short, and low on porn, but it seemed the logical conclusion to not drag out this part of it since it's just you and we know what happens. I'll make up for it with all the porns in the rest of the plot; it'll either be restarting in the Clone Wars or Solo time periods.
> 
> And I'm so sorry for neglecting this, I just got burnt out on it and felt like the quality would go down if I kept writing more when I wasn't really feeling it.

Your hand twitches against the dark console, tracing the metallic curves and buttons. It's been three entire days since Maul has shown himself; the ship is scheduled to send you home in just one hour.

As soon as you'd landed on Naboo he'd been more on edge than you've ever seen him; pacing and meditating, snapping at you whenever you broke his concentration. But finally, he'd come into the bedroom while you were sleeping, waking you unceremoniously and taking you roughly as you were still blinking the sleep from your heavy eyelids. He had to flush the last of the mating cycle out of his system, so it was out of necessity; coldness was all you received when you rolled over, expecting the usual.

 

 

 

_"Go back to sleep," he whispers, bare back facing you as he pulls his boots on._

_"You HAVE to leave right now?" you return, exasperated and insulted with the sudden distance and emotional detachment._

_"Yes, actually, my targets are on the move and I cannot afford to lose them again," he explains._

_"So....you DO kill people." He stands, reaching for his robe and casting you a frustrated glance._

_"Please, you knew that from the beginning."_

_You sit up, shifting over to his side, fear spiking, stomach sinking as a wave of nausea sweeps over you._

_"But what'll I do if you die? I know you've been worrying, I can sense it."_

_The question hangs in the air, facing him with an uncomfortable reality while he tries to focus on his mission._

_"You'll go back home. You'll be financially supported by Senator Palpatine, the Republic recognizes you as legally bound to and supported by me. You'll get something similar to a widow's financial support for a year, but I've filed for four if you want it to get education and a better career."_

_You roll your eyes at the technical explanation, glaring at him, trying to look angry when you're actually just utterly shocked at his generosity._

_"Don't play dumb, you KNOW what I fucking meant."_

_He double checks himself and turns to face you, crossing his arms and letting determination steel his brow._

_"You developed feelings at your own risk, it wasn't part of the agreement."_

_"Yeah sure, Mister 'I have to cuddle up every night to have a good night's sleep' Maul, you're a hypocrite and heartless to boot," you spit, panic fuelling your rant._

_"I feel PASSION towards you! LUST! Not...love. that disgusting, feeble emotion. THAT is for Jedi," he argues, cool facade finally cracking under your digging._

_"Right, because PASSION is all it is to pay someone's way through college after you die, and spend literally all of your free time with them."_

_"SILENCE!" he thunders, and you feel the room crackle with force tension._

_You obey, worried that you're upsetting him enough to unbalance his focus._

_Possibly getting him killed._

_"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I shouldn't have upset you after your meditation."_

_He sighs, reaching forward and stroking your cheek._

_"...please just accept the fact that I cannot feel for you the way that you would traditionally expect me to."_

_He leans in to kiss your forehead and you tilt your head at the last minute to force your lips together, pulling him closer and refusing to let go. His gloved hands attempt to soothe you as you cry, reaching down to pull his robes open then slide up again to push you backwards. You wrap your legs around his hips and nuzzle into his neck, relaxing when he slips soothing tendrils of the force into your mind._

_He's gentle this time, making sure you get what you need to orgasm more than once. He knots you, teeth digging into his mating mark once again, filling you up once more. You kiss and caress his smooth skin while he rests, attempting to rebalance himself._

_Finally, he pulls away, letting you follow him to the landing dock._

_"Do not follow me. I am hunting a Jedi Master and his Padawan. They would kill or imprison you without a second thought for dedication to a Sith Lord."_

 

 

 

A Sith.

The revelation had been harrowing; after all, they had sought to establish a very different society than the one you live in now.

But Maul is different.

And now, most likely dead.

You glance at the tiny service and med bot deactivated in the corner of the bridge, calling it into wakefulness and beckoning it over.

"I can't go looking for him myself, but you can. Find your master, and help him if he is alive. This directive is more important than any other directive you will ever have, even your self preservation."

The droid blips cheerfully, buzzing down the landing dock and disappearing into the slightly humid darkness of the scenic planet's nightfall. As the ship leaves, you can barely contain yourself, sick enough with worry and grief that you can't eat, vomiting every time you try.

You don't even get a funeral. Or the privilege of seeing his body and knowing, being ABSOLUTELY SURE that he's dead. That you're not abandoning him.

Oh well. Your life is well set up because of him, and you will be comfortable. You must be impartial, like he demanded of you, in order to make it now.

But it is still an empty existence. Nothing will change that.

Empty. Just like before.


	5. Chapter 5

"How are you today, miss (Y/N)?" your human psychologist greets, extending her usual hand and giving you a warm smile.

"I'm honestly not sure," you reply, shaking the offered hand and sitting in your usual seat.

"Well, just start where you need to and we'll keep working through it. Remember, grief is complicated; truly one of the most intense feelings any species can ever experience."

She sits back and gives you silence to collect your thoughts, which are currently all over the place. To be quite honest, you feel like you're on the verge of a panic attack. You've already had three since seeing the news, and your mental state hasn't exactly improved. 

"I saw him," you finally whisper, collapsing in on yourself like a wet cardboard box under the heavy foot of a rancor. 

Her brow furrows. 

"In your sleep? A lucid dream again?"

You vehemently shake your head, the shock of it all still making it feel like you're in a dream.

"No.....on the news. He's on Mandalore....he's part of the Death Watch overthrow, apparently he's been ruling it for the past year under the guise of another government official. He's ALIVE. Has been this entire time....."

But he hasn't contacted you.

Not even a simple message, let alone a hologram call.

"At first I thought I was dreaming, or having a fucking meltdown, but it's just all too real. He.....hasn't even tried to contact me."

The therapist mulls your information, watching you struggle not to fall apart all over again. Despite the fact that this is a safe space, you hate appearing weak.

Maul always told you to be strong, so you have to be.

"Well, I'm sure he has his reasons. After all, you did say he was, IS, I apologize, a very detached man. And it sounds like his life right now is tumultuous. Perhaps he thinks he's protecting you?"

You shrug, starting to feel numb.

"No. I LEFT him. He was alive!!! He probably doubts my true feelings because I didn't stay behind. He...probably thinks I just wanted to rake in the benefits instead of trying to find him."

She gives you her usual look that she always serves up when she thinks you're being too hard on yourself. 

You're far too familiar with that look.

"Well, try to contact him. That's the only way to really know, and keep yourself from suffering to this degree. Your health could really benefit from this, mentally and physically."

You nod, clamming up for the most part the rest of the session.

He's alive.

At least you know that much.

 

 

 

TWENTY YEARS LATER

 

You chop the onions, holovision chattering in the background as you slide the pungent vegetable chunks into the stew.

Sighing, you set the lid back on, checking your work messages and shuffling to the living room. Documents, documents, your boss being too demanding, and oh look, MORE documents.

"My eyeballs are gonna pop out of my fucken head," you grumble, flinging the handheld holoprojector down onto the couch next to you. 

You browse the channels and finally settle down, squeezing a fluffy pillow against your chest and snacking on some candy. You're just about to nod off when the holoprojector beeps out an urgent notification, yanking you back to the present and startling you enough to flail and send the candy bowl flying.

Sighing, you snatch up the holo and glare at the number, ready to chew any coworkers out for invading your off time.

But it isn't work.

It's a private off-world number, requesting a holoconference.

You accept it, staring in confusion when the glowing blue form of a woman you don't recognize fills your living room.

"Greetings ma'am, my name is Rook Kast. I am calling on behalf of my employer. Do you have a minute to spare?"

You study her, taking in the full-body crimson armor. She looks...Mandalorian? Your heart speeds up, a million ideas fighting for dominance in your tired brain as she watches you impatiently.

"Um...yeah, yeah, sure. Go on, please."

"My employer would like to arrange a meeting at an undisclosed location. He has many enemies, you see, and it is imperative that his privacy is protected. Everything will be taken care of: work, family, and any other social obligations will be cancelled for you if you wish to attend. Apologies for the lack of explanations, but he said you would know who he is right away. Do you agree?"

You gape, slowly nodding, utterly floored.

It's been twenty years.

Why is he only contacting you now?

"Good. A shuttle will retrieve you tomorrow morning, please be ready at 8 a.m. sharp Coruscant time."

The hologram abruptly ends, leaving you alone to cry in disbelief, fear, happiness, and confusion all at once. You'd opted not to contact him after you'd seen him on the news, agreeing with the therapist that he must have very good reasons for not reaching out to you. He'd told you not to come after him, and you'd obeyed, so he couldn't really be upset with you.

No doubt you'd be used as a weapon against him if his enemies got their hands on you. And you couldn't put the both of you through that just because you wanted to see him.

It had been the hardest decision of your life to date.

The rest of the night passes like molasses; you're desperate to just get to him and finally be reunited at long last.

How much has he changed? What's his personality like now? Does he still pledge allegiance to the Sith?

No matter the answers, you'll still be overwhelmed and overjoyed at seeing him again.

You go to bed and sleep evades you, so you sit up and blankly watch holovision until you finally pass out on the couch from exhaustion. A harsh knock at the door wakes you; you'd forgotten to set an alarm and pack. So you hastily grab some necessities: your holopad, and a change of clothes. Rook is waiting at the door when you open it, flanked by two burly male guards who have horns fixed to their helmets. She looks you over and appears quite unimpressed, turning and waving her gun to get you to follow.

"Come on then, chosen one."

You scurry after her, experiencing deja vú of your first encounter with Maul. Nobody speaks to you; you're left alone in the commons room after your holopad is confiscated and you're offered some food.

You notice with a shock that you can smell his spicy musk. Very faintly, but it's still present. The scent sends you into a crying fit, loud enough for a guard to poke a helmeted head around the corner and investigate. You ignore them and curl up, attempting to get some sleep in before the meeting.

If it'll be anything like it used to, you're going to need all the sleep you can get.

 

 

 

 

"Hey, Bo Peep. Get up."

Rook nudges you with the barrel of her gun, smirking as you jump and scramble up into a sitting position. 

"Don't wanna keep him waiting, he's been in a shitty mood lately. Aka, every kriffing day."

You follow, blinking at your surroundings when she leads you off the ship. The fauna and sky are exotic; almost everything looks deadly, tinted some sickly hue of red or green. 

Rook leads you towards a large black building; it's sharp and minimalistic, appearing to spread out underground. Glances to your right and left show outposts and heavy guard in the horizon.

What the hell had he gotten himself into to warrant THIS?

You're not paying enough attention, and all too soon you're standing with Rook at a heavy set of onyx doors. Everything is luxurious: the highest quality stone decor, state of the art robots passing you on their way to serve their respective masters.

Rook nudges your ass with her gun, rolling her eyes and knocking for you.

"Enter."

You freeze.

It's him. That old familiar voice.

Your legs betray you, knees locking and brain threatening to black out. But you manage to shuffle forward, honestly frightened to see him. You'd only been with him for three months...surely a man like him would've found it easy to forget any feelings he might've had for a whore? You're not even sure if your grieving process left any of your own true feelings behind.

Kast gives you one last shove, pulling the door closed and leaving you to fend for yourself. 

The room is cavernous and dark; a massive fireplace crackling with green fire to the front of you, a sprawling bed and entertainment center to your left. It's so dark that it takes you a second to locate him, sitting at an elevated desk and staring in your direction with an inscrutable expression. 

"Thank you for joining me on such short notice," he says, voice rougher and lower than you remember. 

He shifts, a metallic thunk confusing you as his now massive shoulders rise, drawing him up to his full height. You're still speechless, staring at him with a stupid expression until he purrs out a chuckle. 

"No comment?"

"I just....I....this is all so fast," you whisper, inhaling his now overpowering scent and walking towards him.

He moves from behind the desk and you gasp, noticing the robotic feet mostly covered by his robes.

"My gods....what happened??" you cry, and he shrugs.

"A Jedi. Cut me in half on Naboo...that little droid you sent helped save my life."

You're only a few feet away now. A saddened, weary look replaces his unreadable blankness; he looks apologetic. 

"I am very sorry for disrupting your life....I realize it's been far too long for something like this, but my work is taking its toll on me. I called for you in a moment of weakness."

You reach out and slide your arms around his neck, thicker and higher up than you remember. You can't help but fight a laugh, and he scowls.

"Excuse you?"

"Sorry, but...why am I not surprised that you made yourself taller?"

He looks insulted, but his mouth still twitches.

"Figured you'd like that."

He hesitates, stiffly wrapping his arms around you and letting you burrow into his neck for the first time since what feels like another life entirely. Unsurprisingly, the emotions become too much, and you trap him there while you let them out. In the midst of the sobs, a surge of anger hits you and you suddenly pull away, glaring.

"Why NOW?? I SAW you. On the news. But you never even sent me ONE word. After everything. After that last time on Naboo......I nearly went INSANE!"

He looks like he's been dreading this confrontation for a while now. 

"Sidious," he simply growls, beckoning you over to the lush bed. You follow, sitting right next to him and resisting the urge to climb up into his lap.

"Get up here," he chuckles, sensing your desire and dragging you up by the arm, squeezing you close enough to elicit a happy wheeze.

"Sidious was monitoring you to make sure you didn't tell anyone what you knew, and he killed my apprentice...my brother...to bend me to his will. He would've done the same to you if I'd reached out..but I do not think we have to fear him now, he's quite preoccupied."

You nod, calming and nuzzling up into his aging chin, straddling his hard, metallic thighs.

"And at any rate, I think you would have come to hate me at that time. I was...obsessive. Murderous. I only wanted revenge, and power, after having lived as the trash of the universe. And I still crave it. I WILL find Kenobi someday, and I WILL destroy him. I....killed his lover in front of him. But he DESERVED IT! After what he did, he deserved pain. If I couldn't be with you, he would NEVER have Satine!!"

He's snarling now, forgetting that you're there, gloved hands squeezing uncomfortably into your body until you yelp. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, lowering his face to brush his lips against your throat. A satisfied purr rumbles and he licks your old mating scars. "Mmmm, you can still see my marks."

A shadow falls over his face and he slides you away, suddenly closed off again. 

"Do you have a husband? Children?" he abruptly asks, standing and striding over towards the fireplace.

"No."

You whimper at the loss of his warmth and touch, running after him and wrapping your arms around his left one to resume the comforting touch. He gruffly shakes you off and grunts, glaring down at you until you release him.

"Were you always this clingy?"

"I seem to remember you whining like a spoiled kit if I stopped rubbing your horns at night when you were in your cycle," you bite back, quickly reaching up without permission to stroke at his dorsal horn.

SMACK.

You stumble backwards, tripping and falling flat on your ass, staring up with wide eyes. He looks scared and bewildered, squatting down to reach out for you.

"Please...no sudden movements. I forgot to warn you, I have quite a severe case of PTSD. Apparently. I apologize.....calling you was a mistake. You may not even be able to sleep in my room...I've killed innocent servants in my sleep."

He looks so distraught, so vulnerable; gazing down at you until you reach up to take the hand and pull yourself up with his help.

"It was NOT a mistake," you insist, reaching up to stroke his throat, making sure he sees every movement. "You know I'd risk everything to be with you."

He looks soothed, moving closer and pressing his lips to your forehead.

"Ridiculous...a crime lord, turned into a blithering kit by one lone woman," he mutters, pushing your chin up to lock your lips. 

You melt into him, stroking and pushing yourself up against his solid form as his tongue nudges against your mouth, begging for entry. As soon as your lips part, his tongue is everywhere, and his purr is restarting. It's more scratchy than you remember, matching his broader build and longer horns. You break the kiss, aching at the look of utterly deprived desperation in his eyes.

"I know we have all the time in the world now....," you whisper. "But I need you."

He nods in agreement, leading you over to the bed and tutting when you impatiently tug at his robes.

"Patience is a virtue," he reprimands, cueing you to give him a defiant glare and grab at his groin.

"So...do you....."

He shakes his head, looking forlorn; you cringe as you realize that you've been insensitive and struck a nerve.

"No. Not yet. I haven't had much interest in sex so I hadn't commissioned a doctor until recently, although Rook has been desperately trying to talk me into having a cock made in order to fuck her...Saxon too I suspect," he mutters wryly. "But I have a neurologist who specializes in cybernetics working on something for me, it should be ready soon."

He hesitates, looking unsure.

"I'd still fuck you even if just your head were left," you reassure, sliding up onto the sheets and thanking yourself that you'd taken a shower before putting dinner on the night before. "Now stop wasting time, dammit."

He growls, crawling up on top of you and groaning as his robe slips off, allowing his bare chest to brush against your back. A cold necklace sends chills up your spine, as do his nipple piercings, and you can't help but moan his name. Twisting, you bite and yank on the necklace, pulling his face down lower. He spits out a noise similar to a yowl, a new noise that he's never made before.

And you love it.

"Force, how I missed this," he purrs, shoving you down into the bed and rearing up to bare himself. 

His body is much bulkier than before; heavily marked with scars and burns. The cool metal of his lower abdomen joins his torso in a marriage of scar tissue and sleek engineering, a breathtaking work of cybernetic art.

"You're just as beautiful as before," you whimper, slipping your hands up to massage his abs.

"You're even MORE beautiful than I remember," he practically sobs, hooking his arms under your knees and yanking you forward into his cold groin. "How long has it been since a man has tasted you?"

"Twenty years."

He makes a pained noise, apologizing over and over for waiting so long. His rough black tongue is all over you: your breasts, your fingers, and finally, your clit. His passionate yet tender movements have you panting his name just minutes in, clawing at his erogenous scalp as his strong fingers work bruises into your thighs.

"So soft, so perfect, all for me," he purrs into your vulva, magma eyes boring holes of dedication into your tearful gaze.

"Don't cry, you never have to leave now," he whispers, attempting to calm you, but you'd swear in a court of law that his cheeks are wet as well.

"Do you love me?"

Your question takes him by surprise, his mouth pausing it's delicious ravishing. His brow softens, and he nuzzles into your thigh.

"As well as I can, yes.....I love you," he growls, reaching out with the force to soothe your joyous pain.

Not being force sensitive, you can't exactly explain what happens when he links himself to you. All you know is that everything is more intense, more pleasurable, and you somehow know that he's feeling every arc of pleasure as it rips through you. You cum into his mouth with a scream and his voice rises too, broken and desperate while he hijacks the waves of your orgasm. 

He pants your name like a mantra, sliding up to pull you close in his long-missed embrace and initiate another kissing session. 

"I want to stay here forever, just with you, I never want to leave your side again," he moans.

You murmur similar declarations, realizing just how much it means for a man like him to be saying such things.

After a while he stops, purring endlessly and beginning to gently work at your mating scar with his teeth. You stroke circles into his temple while he does, staring down into his eyes and simply reveling in his presence. Eventually he lets go of your bloodied throat, nuzzling back up to whisper in your ear.

"Would you like the strap-on next?"

"Yes please," you beg, watching him and wondering at the faint whir of his mechanics as he sits up and retrieves the harness from a drawer.

You gasp when you see the dildo; it looks almost exactly like his organic penis. He must've had a special commission made.

Just for you.

He finishes strapping it and climbs back up, letting you choose the position to start out in. You spread your legs and pull him close, craving as much closeness as you can get and therefore choosing missionary. He shifts, reaching down to help the tip slip in. You cry out when he thrusts and enters you up to the knot; you haven't indulged with penetration in far too long.

"Is it too much?" he asks, pulling away and nibbling at your chin.

"No, I'm just out of practice," you laugh, wiggling until he pushes back in and lets you adjust.

He rocks slowly, grunting while you lick and suck at his pierced nipples. You quickly discover that his new height doesn't allow for kissing, so you maneuver him until you can grind down into his lap, wailing as he works your clit with skilled fingers.

The night dissolves into pure pleasure, the both of you ending up collapsed on the bed in an exhausted heap. Just as you're about to suggest a shower, a knock sounds at the door; Maul pulls the sheets up over you and calls them in.

Rook strides in, taking in the strong smell of your sex and the messed up room. 

"Uh...Saxon sent me. He says there's a band of Zygerrians that are refusing to pay; they're requesting to see you specifically."

Maul scoffs, figure and expression alike appearing to be carved from steel.

"Select one and kill them, I don't care which one, just not the leader. Keep doing so until they relent. I'm rather busy."

She nods and casts you a dark glance before leaving. You look at Maul, wondering how many horrific things he's done as a crime lord, and a Sith to boot.

But right now...that doesn't matter.

You suspect that Maul never had a choice with his old master; he has too many suppressed emotions for him to be thoroughly evil.

Right now, all that matters is him. Maul and you, in this bed, right now.

As if those twenty years had never slipped by.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much sexual interaction in this chapter. I want this to start becoming more intimate and a bit more plot-based so I'm shifting the focus, but not drastically. I promise there'll still be gratuitous porn! I'm not the best at plot but I'll try not to flub it up ♡ I'll be watching Rebels and will take this through that timeline too.
> 
> This chapter is also a little rushed and I'll go back in to polish it up a tad later, I just really wanted to get something up! My mental health has been struggling lately so I'm on a semi hiatus.
> 
> And just a note: in the last chapter I regret not introducing Saxon in order to avoid painting Rook as the stereotypical jealous woman, but I think it would've subtracted from the focus on the reunion.

You blink, bleerily nuzzling into your pillow and shifting under the heavy silk comforter. Remembering the events of the night before, you jolt, sitting up fast enough to strain your back and twist your wrist. 

"The hell?" you grumble, confusion jumbling your still waking senses as you realize that you're not in Maul's bedroom anymore. This room is quaint; still expensively decorated, but much smaller and less intimidating. Heavy drapes hang over a tall window and soft green light glows on the bedstand, similar to the green fire in Maul's fireplace.

Your study of the surroundings is suddenly cut off by the small click of a doorknob and suddenly Maul is facing you, already dressed and eyeing your full nakedness with obvious interest. You scowl and pull the sheets up, shooting him a glare as he enters the room.

"You couldn't even knock?" you growl, but your anger is only half sincere and he seems to know it. All things considered, you can't help the uncertainty and fear that's festering in your gut. You'd said so many things yesterday, things fueled by the memory of what was there so long ago...things that you don't even know that you really feel.

"Forgive me, I could sense that you were awake and confused."

He sits on the edge of the bed, respecting your personal space and giving you a concerned look.

"What's wrong?"

You uncomfortably shrug, dropping your eyes down to your hands and picking at a hangnail.

"It's been twenty years," you whisper, to which he nods.

He's been anticipating this.

"I can arrange for you to go back home within the next hour, I had someone claim a family emergency for you today."

He doesn't look disappointed, which sets off a small twinge in your chest. But you remind yourself that his unreadable expressions are never an indication of his true feelings. Sidious made sure of that. 

"I just...I don't know what to do," you confess, moving over and pushing against him until he takes you in his arms, pulling the sheet over you to keep you warm. "Last time we were together...it was only three months. And I have a career. Ditching that...it's huge. All that respect I worked hard for..."

You don't mention that you're scared of him now too. Scared of his hatred for that Kenobi figure. Scared of the fact that he's a fucking crime lord, of all things. But he must know that. How could he not?

"I understand," is his only response, but he holds you a little tighter. You pull open his robe to expose his furnace-like skin and nuzzle against it, moving over to his throat when he lets out a barely imperceptible moan. He slides you off of his lap and moves towards the doorway, ignoring your pout.

"Breakfast will be in thirty minutes, I'll be back to walk you to it."

 

 

 

You're ready when he returns, wearing a simple but flattering outfit provided by one of his numerous personal droids. All of them seem to have non-mainstream modifications, and of course you'd expected as much. Even as a younger man Maul had always been tinkering with the senatorial bots and angering the janitors with them some way or another.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, but his posture is still cold and he turns on his heel, starting off down the echoing hallway as you stare at his back.

You can't help but miss the desperate affection from the night before.

Scurrying to catch up with his metallic strides, you sneak peaks at the passing individuals of varying species, watching while each one stops to bow as Maul sweeps past. He barely pays them any recognition until you come upon a sharply dressed older man, bearing a Mandalorian insignia. 

"Saxon," Maul rumbles, nodding his head and letting the man fall into stride with him. Saxon angles his head to stare at you and you fail to meet it, noticing the same disdain boiling behind his eyes that Rook had greeted you with. Maul abruptly stops, giving the both of you a sharp glance.

"We'll be taking breakfast alone, Saxon. Please make sure that Rook doesn't interrupt us."

Saxon agrees and leaves without giving you a second glance; you can't help but feel defensive. Maul blinks at you and you loosen your grip on his arm, not even realizing that you'd grabbed and squeezed him.

"Sorry. That man, and that Rook woman from yesterday, why don't they like me??" you ask, wondering if you've already done something to get on everyone's bad side.

Maul chuckles and slips back into the affection from the night before, locking your arm with his and turning down a small hallway from which the delicious scents of food are wafting.

"Their culture is harsh, love."

The last word shocks you enough that you trip, forcing him to catch you and berate you for not watching your step. But then he softens, making sure his grip hadn't bruised you.

"Stop giving me whiplash," you mumble, and he cocks a brow ridge, giving you a look that you clearly remember from twenty years ago. "Emotional whiplash, not physical."

He sighs and hisses something about women, bumping the door open with his shoulder while you seriously consider smacking him. But you refrain, knowing that it might trigger an overreaction even if it were playful. The breakfast quickly distracts you anyway; you can barely pick your jaw up off the floor when you see it.

Lobster. Steak. High class Coruscanti EVERYTHING.

Maul sits and you join him, staring with wide eyes when he only selects a raw (ion sanitized of course) steak and reaches for some seasonings.

"You STILL haven't tried cooked food?" you tease, watching him bite it with his teeth instead of cutting it with a knife. He scowls but seems to be fighting a smile, letting you move your chair closer to his. Your knee bumps his and a hot hand slips down to your thigh. He stops eating, attention captured as your lust deepens his through the force.

"Good morning, sir."

Rook marches in and bows; Maul's hand freezes just as a finger is dipping down beneath your panties. His hand reflexively clenches over your sensitive mound and you squeak, drawing Rook's judgmental attention.

"What are you doing here?"

Maul's voice has dropped at least two octaves, and you could swear that a growl is rumbling ever so slightly in the back of his throat. 

"Breakfast, sir." 

Rook sits and spears a hefty chunk of fruit with her knife, slicing into it and pulling out a holopad.

"Saxon and I have an idea for the-"

"GET OUT!" Maul roars, ripping his hand away from you and pushing up out of his seat, lips pulled back in a feral snarl. "YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO DISRESPECT ME? GET! OUT!"

Rook hurries to stand and leaves, looking shocked at his explosive reaction, as if she's never been yelled at until now. She exits with no comment, slamming the door behind her and leaving Maul to slide down into his seat, hands shaking with rage and cheek twitching as he takes another chomp of the steak.

You're squeezed down into your chair, ears ringing from the thunderous yelling. He slams his fork down and his face becomes shadowed, looking weary. Every single one of his years is betrayed now, etched deep into the lines of his still handsome face.

"You said...their culture, earlier," you prompt, sitting up in your chair again, leaning forward to touch his hand as he stares at his half eaten food. But then he snaps out of it, facing you and looking grim.

"Mandalorian society is complicated. Within the mercenary sects, there are certain...rules. Expectations. The best warriors usually fight amongst themselves for the honor of having sex with the leader. It is considered a right of placement."

"So...they just hate me on principle then," you sigh, jolting as Maul suddenly hauls you out of the chair and pulls you up against his chest.

"Yes," he rumbles, nudging under your chin and initiating another sexual encounter by licking at your throat, those scars that he's so proud of. "They will always see you as an intruder, especially since I have not taken either of them to my bed...but I promise they will not bother you, they are all too afraid of me."

He pauses, pulling away, nose mere inches from yours, his spicy scent overpowering the iron tang of his breakfast.

"If you would like to stay, that is."

You climb up into his lap and he works at his robes to expose the strap-on, curved downwards now to avoid tenting his robes. He reaches down to bend it back up and you stop him, rubbing your hands over his chest and slipping them down over his still solid stomach. His breath hitches and you freeze, careful not to touch the skin where it fuses with the robotics, certain that it would bother him.

"I missed you so much," you waver, savoring his purrs as he lets you massage his scarred skin, eyes slitting to stare when you work open your own clothing. You slide down and he parts his legs for you, looking confused. But realization dawns when you bend the dildo into the correct position, leaning forward to take it into your mouth. He shudders, abdomen tensing when you reach down to rub at your clit. Eyes sliding shut, you pleasure the soft silicone, slipping back into the memories of before. 

"Please stop. Please, I...."

You pull away and Maul stands, face twisted, escalating panic clear in his expression and rapid breaths. You inwardly berate yourself for not asking permission to focus your attention on what you already know is the most psychologically painful part of his loss.

"Take her back to her room," Maul commands one of the droids, pushing you away and covering his face. You know better than to reach out and comfort him; he clearly knows how to re-balance himself. Your presence, the stirring up of memories, is obviously unsettling his already traumatized mental health. You can't even begin to imagine the strength it must take to look unbreakable in front of so many people when in reality you've been broken more times than you can remember.

"I'll stay if you want me to, I can probably work from here anyway," is all you offer, turning away and following the droid to give him privacy. He stays silent, mortified at so much weakness displayed in a short sixteen hours.

As you walk behind the droid you can't help but let your emotions get the best of you again, ignoring the curious glances that your tears draw. Maul is so damaged, even if he's still one of the strongest people you've ever known. He's been broken and rebuilt to extents you probably can't even imagine, and that he'll likely never fully explain to you. Things are going to be fundamentally different.

There may be even more pain than there was before.

But one thing is for sure: you're both willing to try this again.

Life is too short to waste these chances.


End file.
